


If You're Going to Stalk Someone, a Studio Ghibli Cosplay Probably Isn't the Best Disguise

by achilleus



Series: Life is Just One Happy Accident After Another [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friendship, Humor, Implied Relationships, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5907253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleus/pseuds/achilleus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okita, please, please, please.” </p><p>Kamui kept bouncing up and down for the next few minutes before Okita sighed and, with a quick twist of his body, threw Kamui off. The blue-eyed boy managed to do a small flip before landing gracefully on his feet. Looking up from where he now sat crouching on the hardwood floor, Kamui blinked angelically up at Okita. Okita sighed, not fooled by the innocuous act for a moment (he was much too familiar with the act himself, in fact, he was a pro at the ‘I’m-the-innocent-one-here-Kondo-san!’ act), but ruffling his messy brown hair, he said: </p><p>“Fine, I’ll help. But I’m cashing this in as a favour.”</p><p>“I promise to have your Hijikata-san’s heart delivered to you by next week,” Kamui replied without missing a beat. </p><p>“It’s a deal,” Okita nodded solemnly. Sticking his hand out, he and Kamui shook on it; another Bloody Business Transaction complete.</p><p> </p><p>OR: Kamui enlists the help of Okita to stalk Takasugi, and it all kind of goes to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You're Going to Stalk Someone, a Studio Ghibli Cosplay Probably Isn't the Best Disguise

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Если уж хочешь преследовать кого-то, не стоит косплеить персонажей Миядзаки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6304456) by [mistralle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistralle/pseuds/mistralle)



> I love the idea of a Kamui and Okita friendship. The world would actually implode.
> 
> Also...EPISODE 308 WHY IS THIS HAPPENING.

“You’re good at the following people stuff, aren’t you, Sadist-san?”  
  
“Do you mean the stalking people stuff?” Okita asked, rolling over from where he had been lounging stomach-down on his bed. He plucked out one of his headphones and stared at his roommate who showed absolutely no shame in the definitely shameful words that had just trickled out of his mouth in a proud stream.  
  
“No, no, I mean the following people stuff,” Kamui replied, his smile never wavering and his eyes still upturned into two happy, perfect curves. Okita sat up, blinking dryly at the long-haired boy standing near the foot of his bed.  
  
“No, sorry. I don’t stalk people for a living,” Okita said dryly. “But I am friends with a professional stalker; I can give you his number if you want?”  
  
Kamui’s eyes finally fluttered open though his bubbly grin remained plastered over his pale face. Pushing away Okita’s sprawled legs, Kamui sat down on Okita’s bed without permission. Okita felt a vein tick at his temple at such an impudent action, but by this point, he was already sadly resigned to it.  
  
(The first time he protested saw a gaping hole punched into the drywall and a massive bill that somehow _Okita_ got saddled with.)  
  
“That’s a disappointment,” Kamui chirped, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, and Okita couldn’t help but wonder for the umpteenth time just how the universe managed to find the biggest moronic lunatic he ever had the displeasure to meet (and that was saying _something_ , hello Hijikata-san!), shuffle him off to the same university as Okita, and then bam! Force them to be roommates as well with the generic roommate formulator the university had used.  
  
(“How did you fill out your roommate questionnaire?” Kamui had asked that first day, after the drywall had been punched through and his bleeding hand had been bandaged by the terrified security that had run up upon hearing the commotion.  
  
“I asked for a simpleton who would let me walk all over him and do anything I asked of him, including murdering someone for me,” Okita had replied, his head pounding painfully and all too aware of the hole behind his back where the people next door were peering in fearfully.  
  
“Funny,” Kamui had said, “I asked for a strong fighter who wouldn’t mind fighting me and possibly dying from fighting me.”  
  
“Woah, so funny,” Okita had said.  
  
  
  
  
“It’s pretty simple, dumbass,” Hijikata had said later on when Okita called him. “The two of you sounded so deranged in your application forms that the university paired the two of you up (though they should’ve arrested you guys), to spare everyone else from your insanity. Should’ve played normal and civil, Sougo…oh wait, that’s impossible for a homicidal freak like you.”)  
  
“I think Shinsuke is going on a date this Saturday,” Kamui sighed, his smile faltering just the slightest before righting itself once more. “I was planning on following them and staking out the competition but I’m afraid I’m a bit too emotionally-invested in this. I need someone who’s cool-headed and objective to come with me. Come with me, Sadist-san!”  
  
“No,” Okita said, barely batting an eye. He put his headphone back in and flopped back down onto his pillow. He reached blindly for the red sleeping mask on his bedside table before pulling the soft material over his eyes, effectively blocking out the sight of his roommate’s stupid face.  
  
The only thing he could hear for a few minutes was the mindless droning of the standup comedy playing on his mp3 player before the bed suddenly tilted. Okita remained impassive even as he felt the looming form of Kamui swaying over his body and the press of his roommate’s legs straddling his waist, muscular thighs pushing hard against his torso.  
  
He continued lying there motionlessly even as Kamui’s grabby fingers reached for his mask, stretching it out before letting it fly back onto Okita’s face, smacking him on his forehead and cheeks. Kamui did this several times – Okita simply stared out monotonously even as his vision went bright, dark, bright, dark, bright, dark – before ripping Okita’s headphones out from where they had been nestled in his ears. A ringing _pop!_ sounded and Okita let out a dry “ah” as Kamui began bouncing up and down on his midsection.  
  
“C’mon Sadist-san! I never ask anything of you!”  
  
“You ask something of me every day,” Okita replied, breathless. Each word that escaped his lips was punctuated by another bounce of Kamui’s body.  
  
“I never ask you to do anything _big_ for me.”  
  
“I kept your armless uncle company all of last Sunday because you forgot he was coming to visit.”  
  
“That was just Abuto! He’s not important!”  
  
“I’m sure his heart just broke. Ah, he’s probably shedding tears right now. Someone, give him a hug, even if he can only half-reciprocate.”  
  
“ _Okita_ , please, please, _please_.”  
  
Kamui kept bouncing up and down for the next few minutes before Okita sighed and, with a quick twist of his body, threw Kamui off. The blue-eyed boy managed to do a small flip before landing gracefully on his feet. Looking up from where he now sat crouching on the hardwood floor, Kamui blinked angelically up at Okita. Okita sighed, not fooled by the innocuous act for a moment (he was much too familiar with the act himself, in fact, he was a _pro_ at the ‘I’m-the-innocent-one-here-Kondo-san!’ act), but, ruffling his messy brown hair, he said:  
  
“Fine, I’ll help. But I’m cashing this in as a favour.”  
  
“I promise to have your Hijikata-san’s heart delivered to you by next week,” Kamui replied without missing a beat.  
  
“It’s a deal,” Okita nodded solemnly. Sticking his hand out, he and Kamui shook on it; another Bloody Business Transaction complete.  
  
-x-  
  
The first Bloody Business Transaction involved umbrellas, mayonnaise and voodoo dolls. It resulted in an emergency evacuation of the dormitories, and one Hijikata Toushirou with a sprained wrist.  
  
The fourth Bloody Business Transaction involved whips, a shaving razor, a hairdryer, and ten pumpkins. It resulted in an emergency evacuation of the arts building, one eyebrowless but smiling Kamui, one pantless but decidedly _not_ shirtless Okita, and a shirtless but decidedly _not_ pantless Takasugi Shinsuke.  
  
The eighth Bloody Business Transaction involved a microwave, a full-length mirror, three dozen eggs, and two pairs of fire-resistant bodysuits. It resulted in singed students, singed professors, a shitload of destruction, and exams being pushed back by three weeks.  
  
The tenth Bloody Business Transaction involved vanilla-scented candles, three bottles of sake, handcuffs, a MADAO, a camcorder, and four memory chips. It resulted in a flushed Sakata Gintoki, an even _more_ flushed Hijikata Toushirou, a _way-too-flushed_ MADAO, and enough blackmail material to lord over Hijikata Toushirou for the next three centuries.  
  
The sixteenth Bloody Business Transaction involved a printer, a phone number, an announcement board, banana-flavoured lube, and banana-flavoured condoms. It resulted in a happy gorilla, a happy pirate-okama-rapper-what-have-you, and a happy duck.  
  
Basically, the Bloody Business Transactions offered fantastic results, but the road to such results were often filled with many horrors (such as mayonnaise, and bananas, and MADAOs) and whenever they involved one Takasugi Shinsuke, it often lead to the end of the world.  
  
(Or, well, the end of _Kamui’s_ world, which meant the end of _Okita’s_ world because his roommate had no self-control whatsoever and the last time Takasugi Shinsuke “stepped out”, Okita was left with twenty-six broken ceramic dishes, two broken IKEA chairs, the remains of a decapitated couch, a hole in the ceiling, a hole in the floor, a naked cat, and a bonfire with Kamui dancing around it to frantic violin music.)  
  
-x-  
  
“What’s so great about Takasugi-sensei?” Okita asked while rummaging through his trunk and rifling through a multitude of whips, chains, collars, and paddles. His roommate’s obsession with the one-eyed (?) literature professor was frankly strange, especially given how Okita was first introduced to Kamui with a litany of: “Fight, blood, strength, fight, strength, blood, strong fighting, bloody fighting, bloody strength, fighting bloody!” and now it became a mantra of: “Fight, blood, Shinsuke, strength, Shinsuke’s strength, fighting, Shinsuke, Shinsuke’s blood, strength, fighting Shinsuke!”  
  
Why was he surrounded by stalkers?  
  
“I don’t know,” Kamui said with a sunny smile. He was rummaging through his closet, tossing random articles of clothing carelessly over his shoulder with a light flick of his wrist. “Shinsuke’s strong.”  
  
“You’re easy to please.”  
  
“Am I? This coming from the guy who only needs a masochist to be pleased.”  
  
“That’s not it,” Okita grunted, pulling out a pair of dark-rimmed 3D movie glasses from the deepest corners of his trunk. “She’s gotta be a super masochist.”  
  
“A crazy super masochist,” Kamui nodded along. “One who’ll stick chopsticks up her nostrils and dine with pigs.”  
  
“Now we’re talking.” Turning around, Okita asked: “Do we really need to disguise ourselves? I’m pretty sure Takasugi-sensei is more than aware of your stalking tendencies and is already preparing to be ambushed during his date.”  
  
“It’s more fun this way,” Kamui said. “Should we coordinate our outfits?”  
  
“Dragon Quest?”  
  
“I wanna go Ghibli.”  
  
Okita pulled out an orange, spiked collar that would be absolutely perfect for a Ghibli disguise.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
-x-  
  
Regarding the incident with the bonfire, the frantic violin music, and the crazily-dancing Kamui, Okita had managed to stop the mess (ie. the bonfire, the frantic violin music, and the crazily-dancing Kamui) with a heavy-pressure hose and the other mess (ie. the freaking-out students and faculty members staring in somewhat petrified silence outside the dormitories) with his police connections.  
  
“What are you doing?” Okita had monotonously asked a drenched but smiling Kamui once they had arrived safely back in the confines of their shared room.  
  
Kamui had been grinning, though Okita had noticed his slightly drooping shoulders, and the long-haired boy had simply replied with a nonchalant: “Nothing much.”  
  
“Why were you subjecting people to your disturbing, wiggly movements?”  
  
“I’m more of a fighter than a dancer, Sadist-san. Don’t be mean.”  
  
“Tell me right now or I’ll shave off all your hair while you’re sleeping. Do you really want to end up like your father?”  
  
“Why do you have to bring up that bald geezer now? Geez, you’re a real piece of work.”  
  
“I don’t want to hear that from you, Wiggly-Movement-Man.”  
  
Kamui had sighed – shoulders drooping up and down with the movement – though the smile never fell from his face. “I saw Shinsuke sitting in his car with this lady.”  
  
When Kamui had refrained from saying anymore, Okita needled him with a: “…and?”  
  
“And that was it.”  
  
“You burnt all your textbooks and notebooks, forced some guy to play the violin for you, and embarrassed yourself in front of everyone with your wiggly movements just because you saw Takasugi-sensei in a car with a lady?”  
  
“…a _pretty_ lady. They kept fluttering their eyelashes like crazy at each other.”  
  
“No more wiggly movements. Ever again. Not even if you catch your precious Takasugi-sensei fucking some pretty lady at an altar.”  
  
“Don’t say that. I’ll rip your arm off and stuff it down your throat.”  
  
Okita had sighed, and stood up wearily from where they had been sitting on the hardwood floor (their couch and chairs had all been destroyed) and stared down at his roommate’s pitifully stupid face. Kamui, though he had still been smiling with his eyes upturned and shut, looked as if he was wilting in on himself, and the uncharacteristic look of defeat hanging over him made Okita feeling more agitated than ever.  
  
“Come on,” Okita had said, motioning for the other to follow him. “Let’s play some video games.”  
  
Kamui’s blue eyes had blinked open, and he had stared questioningly up at Okita. “Video games?”  
  
“Yup. I snagged a game from Kondo-san’s place.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
( _Bakiboki Memorial_ turned out to be a dating sim game, and the most _stupid_ dating sim game to boot. Both of them ended up stabbed through by the stupid bitch’s (who they were supposed to be wooing?) swordfish. The only upside was that Kamui became so distracted by his need to murder the dumbass swordfish girl that he stopped whinging about Takasugi for a good few hours.  
  
  
  
The downside was that Kamui, in utter frustration, snapped the game in half before proceeding to pound down on the two pieces with his foot, successfully shattering the disc beyond repair.  
  
Okita was the one who had to deal with Kondo-san’s whinging for the next few hours.)  
  
-x-  
  
“Why are you covered in black feathers?”  
  
“I’m Howl,” Kamui proclaimed proudly, his smile half smothered by the black feathers falling down and around his pale face. Okita clapped dryly while stating: “Wow. That’s amazing, Kamui. I especially like how all those feathers obstructs most of your face. Next time you should make sure they cover your face completely.”  
  
Kamui looked him up and down for a few minutes before asking, “Tombo?”  
  
“Yeah,” Okita nodded in agreement, and Kamui reached out to tug at Okita’s styled-up hair, smiling with childish glee while doing so.  
  
“Why is Tombo holding a paddle in one hand and a collar in the other? Why does he have handcuffs buckled on his belt?”  
  
“Tombo has hobbies too.” Okita said, twirling the collar around his left index finger with practiced ease.  
  
“I see,” Kamui said, his grin widening marginally. “But I thought Tombo’s hobbies was making aircraft?”  
  
“Nah, that’s more of an occupation. This,” and Okita raised his paddle, “is more of a downtime thing.”  
  
“Your tastes are very singular, huh, Sadist-san?”  
  
“I’m not enlightening you about anything.”  
  
“Oh, but you already have,” Kamui chirped, twirling around and leaving a trail of dark feathers fluttering onto the floorboards as he walked lightly towards the front door. “Now let’s go, Sombo!”  
  
“Don’t call me Sombo, Kowl,” Okita said, following his roommate out the door.  
  
-x-  
  
“So how did you even find out about this date? Were you hiding in his ceiling or something?”  
  
“Nothing so awful,” Kamui said as they both rode together on the subway. The strange gazes of the people around them barely registered with Okita and, looking at his roommate, he could tell Kamui couldn’t care less what others thought either. “Honestly, what do you take me for? Your gorilla friend? I just snagged his phone when he wasn’t looking.”  
  
“Why’d you do that?”  
  
“So I’d have an excuse to visit him after class. I only see him twice a week, Sadist-san. It’s bullshit.”  
  
“Just take more of his classes.”  
  
“Maybe I’ll switch into classical literature as a major. And then go to law school and become a lawyer so I can help bust you out of jail for your future crimes.”  
  
“I’m not gonna need a lawyer; I plan to become a police officer.”  
  
“Police officers commit crimes too.”  
  
“Yeah, but they get away with everything; Hijikata-san gets away with having such a stupid mug, it’s unfair. The system is so corrupt, it’s brilliant.”  
  
“That’s true,” Kamui hummed, his fingers tapping to a muted melody on his knees. “I guess you’ll be my police connection then, in case I ever end up in the slammer.”  
  
“Which you definitely will, Criminal-san. Besides, if I ever did need you to bust me out of jail, you wouldn’t even need to be a lawyer. All you’ll need to do is punch a hole in the side of the prison.” Okita said dryly, and he watched as his roommate perked up even further, his ivory teeth glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the subway cars.  
  
“That sounds way more fun!” Kamui said with glee, looking flushed just from the thought, and Okita rolled his eyes, chewing quicker on his bubblegum.  
  
“You can think of all the times you’ve broken our walls and floors as practice for your future occupation as Wreck-It-Ralph.”  
  
“Wreck-It-Ralph isn’t an occupation,” Kamui corrected him with an impish grin. “It’s something you’re lucky enough to be born as.”  
  
“Well then wreck away, Ralph.”  
  
“Okay!” Kamui chirped, before bending the metal pole next to where he was sitting with his bare fist. Okita only looked on emotionlessly even as the people around them began screaming.  
  
-x-  
  
“This place looks nice,” Okita muttered as they were waiting to be seated. The hostess had stared at the two of them with something akin to horror, and the custodian had looked on with even greater horror as Kamui left a bunch of feathers in his wake, though they hadn’t been kicked out on the spot.  
  
Kamui looked around as if he was just now noticing the family restaurant they were standing in. He kept looking and looking until he suddenly perked up, a look of delight painted over his pale features and, craning his neck, Okita saw Takasugi seated near the left part of the restaurant, closer to the kitchen doors. The green-eyed man was alone at the moment and typing languidly on his cellphone.  
  
“Excuse me, Hostess-san,” Kamui said, and Okita noted dully that the hostess still flustered a bit even in the face of the feather-monstrosity Kamui was donning with pride. “But may we sit somewhere near there?” And Kamui pointed in the vague direction of Takasugi.  
  
Okita ignored the conversation occurring beside him and simply stared at the menu taped onto the glass divide separating them from the main part of the establishment.  
  
_Cabbage Stew  
  
Caesar Salad  
  
Bacon and Egg Poutine  
  
Lobster Macaroni and Cheese  
  
Steak Sandwich with Caramelized Onions and Baby Swiss Cheese  
  
Grilled Crab Sandwich  
  
Roasted Peppers Stuffed with Sautéed Rice, Beans, Cheese—_  
  
“Come on, Sombo!” Kamui was suddenly tugging at Okita’s arm, his strength nearly dislodging Okita’s shoulder from its socket. Hissing, Okita yanked his arm away from his roommate’s monstrous strength and followed him in.  
  
They were seated right next to the kitchen doors at a small, square table, four tables down from where Takasugi was seated, still texting. Kamui’s eyes were blown wide, and he looked comatose, his entire frame frozen and trained to follow Takasugi’s every minute movement. Okita was the one who had to push Kamui down into his seat. The hostess quickly passed them their menus, and with one last lingering glance towards Kamui’s stupefied, feather-ridden face, she bustled away.  
  
“Snap out of it, Kowl,” Okita said, pushing one of the menus into his roommate’s dumb face. “If you keep staring at him, he’s definitely going to notice.”  
  
Sighing, Kamui flipped open his menu and quickly browsed it though Okita noticed his blue eyes kept flickering over the edges of his menu to stare longingly over Okita’s head to where Takasugi is.  
  
“Everything looks so good,” Kamui whined, his eyes still trained over Okita’s head, and the brunette rolled his eyes in exasperation.  
  
“Yes, yes, Takasugi-sensei looks good.”  
  
“Should I get the poutine, or the fish salad? Oooh…or maybe the seafood platter? But the steak sandwich sounds yummy too.”  
  
“Get whatever you want; you’re paying.”  
  
“Am I?”  
  
“You’re paying.”  
  
“Fine, but only because I know if you pay, you’ll only let me choose one set meal.”  
  
“I wouldn’t even let you choose a set meal, I’d only let you choose an appetizer.”  
  
“Harsh…” Kamui muttered, his white cheeks puffed out slightly, as he went back to flipping rapidly through the menu. “Ah!” He suddenly jumped out from his seat, but with a quick jab of Okita’s legs, Kamui slithered back into his wooden chair, the happy grin on his face melting into one of repressed homicidal glee.  
  
“His date is here,” Kamui hissed out, his blue eyes opened wide and his canines glinting menacingly in the yellow lighting of the restaurant.  
  
“Is that right?” Okita asked, while debating between the seafood linguini and the chicken alfredo pasta.  
  
“Blonde hair, short pink dress…she looks like she’ll wear her dirty underwear for a whole week without washing.”  
  
“Is that so?” Okita asked, finally decided on the seafood linguini and was now browsing leisurely through the drinks section. _So many choices_ …  
  
“Is dirty underwear Shinsuke’s thing? Does he like a bit of dirtiness in his life? Am I too hygienic, Sadist-san?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Okita said, debating between the hot drinks and the cold drinks.  
  
“I figured Shinsuke would be dirty in bed, but maybe he likes dirtiness in his life constantly? Not just in bed?”  
  
“Maybe,” Okita replied, having decided on hot drinks and was now looking intently through all the hot beverages offered.  
  
“What should I do? What should I do to get Shinsuke to notice me?”  
  
“Just shut up and order your food,” Okita said, having decided on a mocha. Turning around, he raised his arm to flag down the waitress who had just finished taking Takasugi and his date’s orders and was now heading towards their table.  
  
“Hello,” she said politely, opening up her notepad and whipping out her pen. “What can I get for you?”  
  
“I’ll get the seafood linguini and a regular mocha.” Okita said, folding up his menu and handing it back to her. She quickly and efficiently jotted down his order before turning around to face Kamui. Okita watched with bored eyes as the lady balked, the rosiness of her cheeks fading to a completely sickly white at the crazed look on the long-haired boy’s face. Surrounded by the wispy, black feathers, Kamui was truly a horrific sight.  
  
“What’s he getting?” Kamui asked.  
  
“Who?” The waitress quavered out, sounding equal parts terrified and confused.  
  
“The eyepatch man,” Kamui clarified. Looking around, the waitress blinked before turning back to Kamui.  
  
“Which eyepatch man? I see two of them.”  
  
Okita turned around, looking slowly around the room, bypassing Takasugi’s table, and rotating his head steadily before his gaze caught onto a familiar flash of silver, four tables to the right of Takasugi’s and perfectly diagonal to Okita and Kamui’s table.  
  
Okita froze – ignoring Kamui’s “The sexy one, of course!” and the waitress’s “Sorry, but that’s too subjective of a statement for me to properly understand.” – and stared into familiar, dull red eyes that were staring right back at him. The Yorozuya’s Danna stared back, blinking stupidly behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses before – in perfect synchronization – Okita turned back around to face Kamui and Gintoki slowly looked back down and reached for his glass of water.  
  
“I see some familiar faces here,” Okita muttered after the waitress had left with Kamui’s order of, “Get me twenty of whatever he’s having!” Kamui blinked and after tearing his bloodthirsty gaze away from Takasugi’s table, quickly scanned the establishment once, twice, thrice before freezing.  
  
“That’s the lady from the car!” Kamui suddenly stage-whispered.  
  
“What? Where?”  
  
“There!” Kamui pointed to the person sitting across from Gintoki, and as if they had heard, the person turned around to face them at Gintoki’s hushed words and pointed nods.  
  
Okita blinked at the pirate staring back at them from across the room, and said dryly to Kamui, “That’s not a lady. That’s Kondo-san’s roommate.”  
  
“Not a lady…so Shinsuke must be into males as well.”  
  
“No, you’re not listening to me,” Okita said, turning back around to face Kamui. “That’s Kondo-san’s roommate. I’m pretty sure Takasugi isn’t seeing Kondo-san’s roommate.”  
  
“We can never be too sure,” Kamui stated, the smile of his face beginning to twitch ever so slightly. “He’s probably here because he heard Shinsuke was going on a date and, like a spiteful ex-lover, came to investigate.”  
  
“No, that’s what you’re doing,” Okita muttered. He watched as Kamui began rummaging within the feathered-monstrosity he was wearing and asked warily: “…what are you doing?”  
  
Instead of answering, Kamui pulled out a small writing board and a red marker from within his costume. He ignored Okita’s “What else are you hiding beneath your costume? Your armless uncle maybe?” and set to writing. When he was finished, he raised the board over his head and Okita slowly soaked in the **WHY ARE YOU HERE?** written in Kamui’s messy penmanship; looking as if it was written in blood, dripping red trails and everything.  
  
He turned around to see Gintoki and Katsura read the blunt message on the board before Katsura turned back around to face his friend and Gintoki sat down from where he had been perked up. They began to engage in a colourful-looking conversation, arms waving everywhere before Katsura raised a finger and began rummaging beneath the table.  
  
The next thing Okita knew, a white duck was waddling towards them with a piece of paper held in its beak. Looking up, he met Gintoki’s equally disturbed and exasperated face, and they both shared a sigh.  
  
The duck came up to them and Kamui ripped the piece of paper from it.  
  
“He’s saying that they’re here to stake out Shinsuke’s date,” Kamui muttered, before scribbling back onto the paper and sending the duck along its way.  
  
Okita watched as the pristine-white animal tottered courageously off into the battlefield, heading towards its own encampment. Katsura read the note quickly before jotting something down onto it, handing it back to his duck, and sending it back off to them.  
  
_A messenger duck_ , Okita thought in perturbed silence as Kamui said, “He’s saying that they’re only childhood friends. No romantic attachment whatsoever. Huh…I didn’t know Samurai-san is friends with Shinsuke.”  
  
“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” Okita rolled his eyes. Kamui continued writing something down onto the paper just as a stream of waiters burst through the kitchen doors, their arms laden with platters and platters of food. Kamui had just sent the duck slowly on its way back to its owner’s table when four waiters came bustling to their sides.  
  
“Here’s your orders!” The waitress said, dropping off Okita’s order as the other three began unloading Kamui’s many platters.  
  
“Sadist-kun?” Kamui piped up just as the waiters dashed off.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your collar,” Kamui pointed out. Looking down, Okita saw the chain attached to the collar had been caught onto something, the metal chain unraveling quickly. Looking around, Okita saw that the end of the chain had gotten caught onto one of the waiters carrying a huge seafood platter in one hand and a bottle of olive oil in the other.  
  
“Oh,” Okita muttered just as the chain finished unraveling, jolting the waiter who tilted backwards, causing him to crash into another waitress who had been rushing just behind him, carrying a huge chocolate cake with candles alit on top. As they both fell, Okita watched in slow-motioned silence as the duck waddled before them. The waitress seemed to register the animal as well because she flipped over to avoid landing on the pet, and as a result, crashed back-first into the hardwood floor. The cake splattered around them; chocolate fudge splashing around them and landing on the duck’s pristine white feathers as well. The duck quacked loudly in indignation, its feathers flapping about madly as it began rushing through the restaurant, a symphony of honks and Katsura’s following “Elizabeth(’s)!” quickly filling up the restaurant.  
  
Okita stared at the madness and blinked dumbly as the waitress’ shirt caught on fire from the candles on the cake. Shrieking, she tried to distinguish the flames by batting it off, but failing, she simply shook off her shirt and tossed it to the hardwood floor. She lay there in her frilly pink bra as everyone froze in horror at the rapidly spreading flames.  
  
Suddenly, as if a switch had been turned, everyone began screaming and running out the door. Clicking his tongue, Okita rose to follow, only to watch as Kamui had already run towards the flames and, grabbing the fallen bottle of olive oil, squirted it into the fire.  
  
Which only grew bigger, causing the panicked screaming to get louder.  
  
“Oops?” Kamui said. “Olive oil enhances the flame, huh?”  
  
“What are you doing?” Okita called, running up to his roommate and staring at the bright flames licking higher and higher.  
  
“You’re on fire, dumbass!” Gintoki suddenly cried out from beside them. Looking down, Okita saw that the feathers of Kamui’s costume had caught on fire. Groaning, he tried to swat away the small embers igniting throughout his roommate’s costume, but the flames only grew.  
  
“Screw it!” Gintoki cried after his and Okita’s failed attempt to purge the flames. “Just take the damn thing off!”  
  
The three of them wrestled off the burning monstrosity and then after being freed from the costume, they bolted out the door, smoke already clogging heavily everywhere and making the simple act to breathing difficult.  
  
The outside air felt ridiculously refreshing, and Okita took in a deep breath even as the clamoring of alarmed pedestrians and wailing of police sirens continued to steadily grow in volume around them.  
  
“Oi,” Gintoki panted from beside him. “Are you two okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Okita said, standing up and wiping the sweat from his brow.  
  
“Good,” Gintoki said, before shedding away the caring and nurturing persona to put on an angry frown. “Don’t you dumbasses do that again! Honestly, how stupid do you have to be to throw olive oil onto a burning fire?”  
  
Turning around, they both faced Kamui who stood on the other side of Gintoki. Okita stared blankly at him roommate in a numb, stupefied silence and he could feel the silver-haired man standing in an equally stunned, frozen daze beside him.  
  
Completely ignoring his companions’ unimpressed looks, Kamui pushed back his bangs which were matted to his forehead from the heat and exertion. “That was a good workout!” He chirped happily, apparently without a single care in the world.  
  
“Yeah, it really was,” Gintoki replied genially with a smile of his own, before yelling out with the greatest exasperation, “ _my ass_! Why are you wearing chainmail? Why are you only wearing chainmail and a speedo? What kind of kinky play are you into? Who are you dressed up for? For Okita-kun? That’s just wrong…plain wrong! Wronger than when Luke thought he was falling in love with Leia!”  
  
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, Samurai-san?” Kamui asked happily, while Okita slowly dug his mp3 player from his jean pockets, popped in his headphones, and attempted to block the world out.  
  
“Elizabeth is okay!” Katsura suddenly emerged from the singeing fires of hell, the duck held above him head in triumph. “Elizabeth is alright, no need for anyone to worry.”  
  
Running up towards them, Katsura suddenly skidded to a stop before Kamui. The man slowly tilted his head while Kamui continued grinning up at him, before Katsura finally proclaimed: “Aha! You’re wearing _Maria the Virgin Witch_ cosplay, aren’t you?”  
  
“Oho, you’re good, Pirate-san.” Kamui said with a gentle tilt of his head. “What gave me away?”  
  
“Obviously the chainmail,” Gintoki snapped.  
  
“Your speedo!” Katsura said instead.  
  
“ _How_?” Gintoki cried out in exasperation as Okita dug around his pockets for a packet of gum which _he knew was in his pocket somewhere_.  
  
“What the hell are you guys doing here?” A voice suddenly snapped over the droning monologue of the standup comedy Okita was listening to. Looking up, he saw Takasugi stomping up to them, his blonde lady friend nowhere in sight.  
  
“Shinsuke!” Kamui perked up, and at that moment, Okita could swear at the sun was literally shining out of his roommate’s ass.  
  
Takasugi skidded to a halt, his green eyes slowly drifting away from Gintoki and Katsura to train themselves onto his student. He paused, before stuttering out a: “Kamui? What are you doing here? What are you _wearing_?”  
  
“I’m wearing a crossover cosplay of _Maria the Virgin Witch_ and _Free!_ , what do you think of it, Shinsuke?” Kamui asked with a sunny grin.  
  
“What…?” Takasugi asked in his deep voice as his eyes drifted back and forth, as if they couldn’t decide on which ridiculous sight to settle upon. “Why are you guys together?”  
  
“We’re not stalking you, if that’s what you mean,” Gintoki said. “The world doesn’t revolve around your short ass, y’know?”  
  
“We were just having lunch with these two young men,” Katsura interrupted before Takasugi could shoot out a sharp retort and begin another War of Snark. Elizabeth quacked as if in agreement, and Okita couldn’t help but shoot the animal a perplexed look (he had always ignored Kondo’s tales of the pet being sentient, but with its beady eyes trained right at him in a look that he would definitely classify as ‘cocky’, Okita couldn’t help but ponder otherwise). “We have no idea you would be here too, Takasugi.” Katsura continued.  
  
“I didn’t know you had a friend that was a pirate, Shinsuke!” Kamui sing-songed, looking far happier than he had in a while, and Okita let out a soft sigh.  
  
“Excuse me, but can I get a witness report from you guys?”  
  
Turning around, Okita saw Kondo lumbering towards them. The older man saw Okita and stopped, taking in the 3D glasses, the striped shirt, the done-up-hairstyle, and the paddle and collar, and squeaked out: “Sougo?”  
  
“Ah, Kondo-san,” Okita replied, plucking out one of the headphones in his ears and giving the older man a careless wave. “Fancy meeting you here.”  
  
“Huh? What? Yorozuya? Takasugi-san? Kamui-kun? Katsura? What?”  
  
Katsura cried out, “It’s not Katsura, it’s _Captain Katsura_!” at the same time Gintoki picked his nose and muttered, “Calm yourself, gorilla. We don’t need a dead ape here.”  
  
“…you guys had something to do with this fire, I know it. I have several other witnesses saying that they saw a duck streaking through the establishment and something about a metal chain before everything just went to hell.”  
  
“Kondo, it was horrible!” Katsura cried, running towards the other man with the duck cradled in his arms. “Elizabeth…Elizabeth almost died!”  
  
“Hah? Elizabeth did?” Kondo squeaked out over Katsura smothering the duck all over his blushing face. Okita watched blankly (wondering dully if that banana-flavoured lube and condom had ever been used) and, from his peripheral vision, saw Kamui slowly sidle up beside Takasugi with a beseeching look in his eyes and the most innocuous smile decorating his pale face.  
  
“Look gorilla,” Gintoki said, taking off his red glasses and stuffing them into the front pocket of his purple suit. “It was just an accident; something with a metal chain, and a duck, and a beautiful chocolate cake which caught fire on some lady’s shirt, and then there was the instance with the olive oil and the feathers, but no one got hurt! You’re making this a bigger deal than it really is.”  
  
“You guys burned the entire place down!” Kondo protested, Elizabeth now in his arms, and face red from both frustration over Gintoki’s nonchalant words and the fact that Elizabeth had been stuffed in his face for a good few minutes.  
  
“We didn’t set the place on fire, the candles on the innocent cake did,” Gintoki clarified with a firm nod. “Also, only a few tablecloths caught on fire. Nothing burned down; stop being so dramatic, gorilla!”  
  
Just as Gintoki finished saying that, the whole establishment moaned and seemingly caved in. There was a suspended moment of silence where the building remained heaving upon itself, before the entire structure collapsed in a blast of dust and debris. Okita closed his eyes against the calamitous rush of flying rocks and soot motes that flew about, and when he opened his eyes again, Gintoki was gone, having run off at the very first strings of ominous creaking.  
  
“Ah!” Kondo cried, as they all looked at the quickly receding back of rapidly sprinting perm-head. “You can’t run! I know where you live!”  
  
The rest of them looked back at the sad remains of a once proud-looking restaurant, and the duck released a melancholic _quack, quack, quackkkkkk_.  
  
Okita glanced up to where Kamui was standing close to Takasugi, the older man looking completely exhausted, while the younger stood beaming and sparkling. Okita mentally racked up the favours his roommate now owed him.  
  
-x-  
  
They arrived back at their dorms a few hours later, having been dragged off to the police station where Kondo reprimanded them for a good while before buying them ramen for dinner and dropping them back onto campus.  
  
Okita grinned as he unlocked their front door; Kondo could never refrain from spoiling him, and maybe it was a bad thing to constantly that advantage of that fact, but he had been raised to take without question, so take he would do.  
  
Toeing off his sneakers, Okita meandered into their shared living space before plopping unceremoniously onto the couch and dropping his arms over his slack and exhausted face. He heard Kamui flip off his own boots before his soft footsteps shuffled against the hardwood floor. After a few minutes where Okita could feel Kamui looming over him, his sprawled out legs got pushed off the couch, and Kamui occupied the now freed-up-space. Okita felt an all-too-familiar vein tick at his temple at such an impudent action, but he only sighed and asked:  
  
“I guess you’re pretty happy, huh? Wearing Takasugi-sensei’s jacket and everything.” Raising his arm, Okita peeked out and saw Kamui wrapped up in Takasugi’s purple jacket, looking flushed and pleased beyond belief. The outstretched smile on his face finally feeling fairly genuine.  
  
“I’m gonna keep this forever,” Kamui declared with a happy titter. Okita snorted and dropped his arm back over his eyes.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that’s for you to borrow, not to keep.”  
  
“I’ll just tell him I lost it.”  
  
“I don’t want come back and see you masturbating with it,” Okita stated dryly, the very thought of such an act leaving disgusted shivers to dance up and down his body.  
  
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, Sadist-san,” Kamui snickered before getting up from the couch. Okita could hear his roommate’s light footfalls leading him towards the direction of the kitchen, confirmed when the long-haired boy called out: “I’m gonna make some dumplings; I’ll make some for you.”  
  
“What, dumplings but no thanks?” Okita asked after him.  
  
“Dumplings but no thanks,” Kamui confirmed, before the clanging of pots and pans began to echo around their home. Okita sighed and closed his eyes, feeling sluggish and relaxed even in the presence of a homicidal lunatic like Kamui.  
  
-x-  
  
“Come out into the living room!” Kamui burst into Okita’s room with a cheerful cry and an excited air, his orange wisps of hair flying behind him in its usual loose braid.  
  
Okita looked up, trepidation already settling into the low pits of his stomach, and setting down his comic book, he asked, “What did you do?”  
  
“Something you’d love,” Kamui declared, rushing to his side and pulling him up by his left arm. “Just trust me!”  
  
“The last time you said that, I ended up with a broken arm.”  
  
“Everyone makes mistakes, Sadist-san. Come, come.”  
  
And with that, Kamui pushed Okita out into the living room. Stumbling out, Okita looked around for any abnormalities (such as holes in the ceiling, or the walls, or maybe the floor, or a cracked television screen, or a…) before he finally took notice of a figure lying on their couch.  
  
Strolling up to the thrashing figure, Okita saw that it was Hijikata, tied up with silk ribbons in the most elaborate bondage position ever. With the way each arm was tied to each corresponding leg, Hijikata had absolutely no way of escaping. The moment Hijikata saw Okita, he began screaming, though the no-doubt-obscenities escaping his lips were muffled by a self-made silk gag.  
  
Turning around, Okita stared dumbly at Kamui who skipped cheerfully to his side.  
  
“Your payment,” Kamui clarified with a bright smile. “I learned how to tie this on YouTube. It was so hard though; I have no idea how sadists have the patience to tie anyone up.”  
  
“I thought you were going to get me his heart?” Okita asked, while staring at the squirming man on his couch. A flush had begun to take over Hijikata’s white face, leaving his cheeks and nose a bright, pink shade, and his blue eyes were glaring angrily at the two younger boys.  
  
“I thought about it,” Kamui answered, “but I decided I’d give you the pleasure.”  
  
Still staring at the protesting man, a half-baked idea began formulating in Okita’s mind. Turning towards Kamui, he said: “Bring the wagon around.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“We’re delivering him somewhere.”  
  
A strangled scream escaped Hijikata’s gagged mouth.  
  
  
  
  
  
**To Be Continued**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! :)


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